Lambiedog

Rawhide tales

 

My rawhide is very dear to me.

When I am not chewing it I usually hide it in one of two places for safekeeping:  either underneath the coffee table, or on the recliner chair.

Then I keep close tabs on it so it will be ready when I want it again.

  

Gender bender

 

Yes, I like fashion.  Some might call me metrosexual.

I call myself confident in my virility.

We bristle as one

 

A recent arrival was instantly unpopular.  No one liked him.

 He brazenly peed on our bench, then turned and walked away.

  
 

  The experience gave me insight into how onlookers sensing a threat to their community can be drawn into spontaneous group violence.  

Squirrel developments

  Lots of promising developments in the squirrel department.

I have been spending increasing amounts of time gazing into their lairs, trying to get inside their heads as any good tracker would do.

The work demands close attention.

    

Perhaps unsurprisingly, my subjects have not been supportive of my research efforts. 

But that does not dishearten me.  I'm confident that if I keep my nose to the ground I will turn up more information.

 

The best scientists have taken years to realize their life's work.  Think of Charles Darwin. 

Dog on a short leash

 

    Early yesterday morning I encountered a dog on an extremely short leash.

My first thought was that he must be a monster who required very close supervision.  But when I approached to sniff him, he turned out to be a nice fellow who was in the clutches of a controlling dog walker. 

 I whispered to him, using special dog language that only American Indian code talkers might be able to understand -- (and even they probably couldn't crack Spoken Dog) -- that he ought to make a break for it.

Although he listened intently to my suggestion, I could tell that he didn't have it in him.  Rebellion was not part of his vocabulary.  And I had to respect that.  Not everyone is an 'I ain't marching any more' type.  

 I didn't want to make him uncomfortable, so I backed off and wished him well.

 

Maybe he's the kind of guy who likes a short leash.

With Sam and Grandpa

 

 I hung out with my brother Sam and my grandfather who was visiting.

They discussed computers, which to tell the truth I find deadly boring, although I feigned interest.

For a conversation to keep my attention, there should be a lot of "Lambie"s sprinkled into it.  I'd say the proper ratio would be about 25 "Lambie"s per minute of conversation.

New friend

 

I've been having a great time out at the bluffs playing with a dog by the name of Charlie. 

Charlie and I have a lot in common:  We're both small, both white, both cute, and we share the same groomer.

           

We like running around with each other.

 

Not that we're exact replicas personality-wise.

  Charlie is the braver of us, and I the more cautious. 

     

     

But in terms of joie-de-vivre, I would say we are well-matched.

 

Some sensible boots

 
 An interesting article on footwear in the New York Times today. 

The two faces of Lambie

With my rawhide at 9 a.m.:

 

With my rawhide at 3 p.m.:

 

The rawhide is constant in both photos.

 

Haiku

  

Mooz bench defaced -- why?

Grieving husband planned for months;

Mindless louts don't care.

Your scrivener back on the job

 
    It has been a shockingly long time that the Most Important Dog has remained silent.  I now take up my pen to give my clamoring readers those details of my life that they have been coveting:

With each succeeding rain, the bluff has grown more green and lush.

Practically jungle-esque, in fact.

Thus, I was not surprised at the end of the week to see a truck pull up and a tractor descend the ramp.  

The guy whizzed around, moving Stonehenge boulders and cutting away the grass at great speed.

For a while I managed to ignore him.

       

But eventually, as his cutting grew more and more fevered, I decided to get out of the way.

 

I felt I owed it to my loved ones not to be a daredevil.

Dedication of the Melodie Mooz bench

 A small crowd gathered on the bluff yesterday morning to dedicate the Melodie Mooz bench that was erected  last month.   

Old friends and neighbors exchanged reminiscences with Melodie's husband,  Bill Mooz, as city workers attached a plaque to the bench. 

  

Then Bill sat on the bench and everyone took pictures.

 

As the de facto representative of the canine population, I felt I had an important, albeit subtle, role to play at the event.
  I tried to live up to my responsibility.

  
 

A small bit of good news

    There has been a lot of terrible medical news in my circle recently.  So I am pleased to at least allay concerns in one tiny area.  My recent lab tests revealed good results:  a very good general blood panel, normal liver enzymes, and a phenobarbital level that was actually a little on the low side, which means there's lots of room to increase the dosage should that ever be necessary.  

    So my health is one less thing for my associates to have to think about.  

    If you want to, though, you to can always worry about my weight: 17 pounds, 7 ounces. Remember, however, that a good portion of that --  at least 5 to 10 pounds, I'd estimate --  is attributable to my luxuriant fur.